


Ruler

by butterycornbread



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood and Violence, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterycornbread/pseuds/butterycornbread
Summary: Makoto and Byakuya form an alliance, and Mondo immediately tests it.
Relationships: Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya
Comments: 14
Kudos: 267





	Ruler

Makoto does not want to leave his room.

Correction: Byakuya’s room. It looks so different, far more austere and dignified than Makoto’s own, in the bright light of morning. Byakuya must have woken first, left without waking Makoto. He’s never been a very heavy sleeper, but with the warmth of an alpha beside him and the thrilling solace of musk in his nose, his lungs . . .

_Byakuya smelled different in his sleep clothes. Stronger, somehow, like his scent was unfiltered by the propriety of daytime. It had taken Makoto so long to work up the courage to ring the bell, and even longer for Byakuya to answer, that he wondered if the alpha had already begun to fall asleep._

_His blink was a little bleary behind his glasses. “What do you want?”_

Makoto sighs. There’s nothing for it; he can’t stay here. They’ll start getting suspicious, and what if someone starts throwing around accusations and they all come parading to the door? That would be even more humiliating than his solitary entrance.

He sighs again, gets dressed, washes up in a fruitless attempt to rid his skin of alpha-scent, and trudges to the dining hall. The smell of breakfast would normally cheer him up at least a little, but anticipation twists his stomach. He gave in to temptation last night, and surrender felt so, so good then . . . but what does it mean for him now, in the light of day?

_“I’m sorry.” It felt best to say that first. An apology for the intrusion and everything that would come after, and maybe for everything that had come before it too. He tried to recall, in that moment, the few times Byakuya had regarded him with something like kindness. It was hard to manifest in his mind, with those impatient blue eyes boring into him in reality._

_“I hope you’re apologizing for making me repeat myself,” Byakuya said, arms crossed over his chest. “For the last time. What do you want?”_

Makoto lingers in the foyer. He can hear the chatter of voices and clatter of dishes, can see glimpses of his friends inside. Friends? Is that what they are? Some of them. Maybe. One of them, definitely. And maybe something . . . more?

_The words came out in a rush. “I—I just—I’m sorry, but I’ve been spending time with you and I know we’re stuck in here and maybe we’re all just friends of, um, convenience, but you’re the kind of guy I would daydream about if we really did go to the same school, and I know you’re way out of my league and you’re the one percent and we’re worlds apart and I hear everything you say, I promise, and I know maybe you think I’m an idiot but I am a little smart, and I know you’re strong and I’m really not and I can only pay you in one way but I want us to trust one another and—and—and if you wanted to have an alliance sort of thing, then I would really appreciate that and then maybe I wouldn’t feel so afraid all the time.”_

_He almost wanted to cover his mouth when he realized how off-script he’d gone. Byakuya stood expressionless in his doorway for what seemed an eternity. Makoto had to keep himself from crying ‘nevermind!’ and running back to his room. The only thing that prevented his knees from buckling, in fact, was the scent wafting out of Byakuya’s room. It was the smell of alpha, but in the context of the familiar, it was soothing to Makoto’s omega senses. Even then, he associated the essence of Byakuya with safety._

_“Come in,” Byakuya said suddenly, turning his back and stepping away. His voice betrayed nothing. “Close the door behind you.”_

Makoto takes a deep breath and steps inside. The betas don’t realize, at first, why the alphas and omegas they’re talking to suddenly break off and stare toward the door. Nostrils flare. Eyebrows rise. Only Byakuya, farthest from both the front door and the kitchen, observes the scene with an unreadable face.

“Holy shit,” Mondo says, breaking the silence. “Did Togami fuck you last night? You reek.”

Makoto tried to prepare himself for this, but it’s no good. His ears burn red against his hair, and he can feel his cheeks will be next. He wants to just ignore it, but he knows that’s not an option. Not in a place like this. Not with an alpha like Mondo.

“No,” he says, and prides in his voice coming out almost even. “No, he didn’t.”

“Sure smells like he did,” Hina remarks, rubbing her nose. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

“You _mated_ at _school_?” Taka splutters. He looks between Byakuya and Makoto, scandalized. “But what if he gets . . .”

“Pregnant?” Celeste finishes, amused. “That would be quite interesting. More potential victims added to the pool.”

“Don’t speak of pups that way,” Sakura rumbles, only quieting at a gentle hand-pat from Hina.

Through all of this, Byakuya says nothing. Only watches and sips his tea.

Makoto wishes anew to have such tranquility among these tempers. As an omega, he is over-sensitive to the moods around him, especially those of alphas; their fiery bursts of emotion only add to the dread Makoto feels at existing in this school. Byakuya is an alpha, yet he possesses more calm than even the betas. Makoto has never seen anything like it . . . but then, should he really by so surprised by Byakuya’s self-control?

_Makoto closed the door and immediately got down on his knees, before he could lose his nerve. He’d been through the motions of this in his head, over and over. He knew what to do, mostly, from the internet. He’d never been with an alpha this way before, and maybe that’s why he was so frightened. He didn’t know what they were capable of, after all. He knew Byakuya could have killed him right there if he really wanted to, and nobody would even hear let alone be able to rush in time to help. He was giving himself over._

_Perhaps that was what equalists would call reductionist, but Makoto had never been interested in politics. He just wanted to be happy and safe, and—even though it had him trembling a little—the idea of being Byakuya’s to protect made warmth bloom from his heart._

_The alpha looked over at him then. His fine eyebrows quirked slightly at the position. Was he doing it wrong? He had no idea. He just knelt and watched Byakuya slowly make his way back over to Makoto. Something complicated darkened his eyes; a storm brewed in royal irises. He stopped just before him, gazing down expectantly from on high._

_Makoto didn’t have the nerve to make the first move. He didn’t touch Byakuya. He simply risked an upward glance into his eyes—such beautiful, fierce blue—and opened his mouth. An offering._

_He could smell the alpha’s excitement, like . . ._

Hot musk, radiating off Mondo as he swaggers up to leer down at Makoto. He can feel the arrogance more than see it; his instincts urge him to back away, duck his head, submit to appease this brash alpha. But, with Byakuya watching, he’s brave enough to stand tall. As tall as he can, at least.

Mondo is taller, by several inches. When Makoto doesn’t put distance between them, he throws a heavy arm around his shoulders. “So that’s your type? Never woulda guessed it. What they say must be right, huh? Always the quiet ones.”

“We didn’t mate last night,” Makoto says, but no one hears him.

“I can’t _believe_ you got laid before me,” Mondo goes on, turning toward Byakuya and hauling Makoto around with him. “What did you do, promise him money or something? I told him he could ride with me after we get outta here, and _you_ were the one who ended up with a ride. What the hell is—”

“WE DIDN’T MATE!” Makoto shouts, and only after it’s out does he realize how needlessly loud it was. For a moment, everyone wears Chihiro’s wide eyes—except Byakuya, who only slightly arches an eyebrow.

“. . . last night,” Makoto finishes meekly.

_Last night. Byakuya’s hands on him, his shoulders and arms, lifting him up. Makoto couldn’t stifle a squeak of surprise as Byakuya half-carried, half-escorted him onto the bed. He was just shy of coercion, the way he guided Makoto down onto his back. Of course, he didn’t have to use force; Makoto wanted to obey the alpha just as much as his instincts did._

_Even so, Makoto couldn’t suppress the nerves quivering through him when Byakuya began to take off his blazer and hoodie. He hadn’t planned on this. He hadn’t thought, the first time, Byakuya would want more than his mouth. But why was he surprised? Why wouldn’t the Togami progeny expect this, believe himself to be entitled to every part of Makoto from the outset?_

_Byakuya didn’t stop until Makoto was in nothing but his underwear. He couldn’t stop himself from blushing and trembling beneath the alpha’s gaze. He probably looked foolish, like something straight out of a magazine. A needy omega, flustered by his own arousal, begging for an alpha’s care._

_As if reading his mind, Byakuya said, “I don’t go in for that type of thing.”_

“Excuse me?” Mondo rears back in disbelief. “Did little Naegi just raise his voice at me? Holy shit.” He leans in close, clearing his teeth in something closer to a grimace than a grin. “I know you didn’t have the balls for that before. What happened? Togami fuck some attidude into ya?”

Makoto wants, all at once, to scream. The volume he found moments ago, however, is gone. He’s not sure where his voice is at all. He feared something like this might happen, but he didn’t think it would be this bad. Having everyone’s eyes on him while Mondo is saying these things, he just feels like the omega slut his parents used to warn him about becoming. And it’s so unfair, for reasons these people will never understand, and he just . . . he just can’t . . . he cannot let himself cry—

_“Don’t cry,” Byakuya warned. “I have no patience for that.”_

_In retrospect, it wasn’t cruel at its origin, but in the moment Makoto only felt it as rejection. He bit the insides of his lips to keep from crying and looked all around the room, anywhere but Byakuya. He had no idea what was even happening—why had he put him on the bed and stripped him if he wasn’t even going to accept payment for protection? And if he was going to attack him, wouldn’t he have done it already? Was this about to be the longest—and last—night of Makoto’s life?_

_Byakuya joined him on the bed. No, in the bed; he climbed in beside him and pulled the covers up to their shoulders. Makoto was immediately enveloped in Byakuya-scented warmth, and the bliss of it dried all his unfallen tears._

_“Omegas are so emotional,” Byakuya said under his breath, obviously smelling Makoto’s shift from despair to relief. He shifted closer until they were almost spooning. “You are allowed to breathe. If you suffocate yourself here and they blame me for your death, I will find your soul in hell and torture you.”_

_Makoto blinked. Then, because he was so overwhelmed by the emotion of his admission and Byakuya’s reaction and the heavenly body heat at his back, he burst out laughing._

_“Alright,” Byakuya said after a few moments. His voice sounded a few shades lighter than normal. “Enough of that. You’re here to sleep, nothing more. So sleep.”_

_“But,” Makoto said, just brave enough to push his luck, “does that mean you—”_

_Byakuya’s huffed exhale tickled the nape of Makoto’s neck. “Good night, Naegi.”_

“Ahem.”

Makoto stumbles back as Mondo releases him and whirls. Here is Byakuya, glaring coolly at the other alpha. Mondo bristles at the blatant challenge.

“What’s this supposed to be?” Mondo asks. “Protecting your bitch?”

It slices neatly into Makoto’s heart, despite everything, but Byakuya’s face doesn’t change.

“Did that wise brother of yours never teach you to pick on someone your own size?”

New fire ignites in Mondo’s eyes and he steps so close his face is mere inches from Byakuya’s. Tension crackles between the alphas, Mondo shuddering with vicious energy, Byakuya the predator coiled to spring.

“What,” Mondo snarls, “like you, pretty boy?”

Byakuya tilts his head back, chin up, disdain oozing from every pore. His growl is so low Makoto feels it in his chest before he hears it. In his peripheral vision, he sees the others moving back toward the walls. Makoto begins to edge backward himself, but he can’t look away from Byakuya.

If he had for even a second, he surely would have missed Byakuya snatching an empty juice bottle from the nearest table and smashing it over Mondo’s head.

Makoto gasps at the hideous sound of glass shattering against the skull, but unfortunately it’s not enough to bring Mondo down. He roars, slamming into Byakuya and sending the pair of them crashing into the table. Makoto can barely make out what happens: it’s all just fists and kicks and snarls, and then Byakuya shoves Mondo away and Makoto sees his lip is split and bleeding. Mondo is better off and he knows it: he’s bulkier, dirtier, and has no qualms about losing teeth or breaking a nose. Makoto doesn’t know if he can bear to see Byakuya ruined. Not because he only likes him for his looks, but because he simply isn’t worth losing them for.

He opens his mouth to say this, to tell Byakuya to forget about his request last night, to just let Mondo take his anger out on Makoto instead. But he knows it’s pointless even before he tries. It’s not a matter of just protecting Makoto anymore. It’s a matter of honoring Byakuya’s pride, and that could take him to his grave.

“Byakuya—” Makoto tries. That’s all he manages.

With a nasty snarl no high class alpha would ever dream of producing, Byakuya surges forward. He grapples with Mondo for a few precious seconds, then puts his long legs to good use. Mondo stops the first kick but the second lands squarely between his legs, and he staggers, doubled over.

“You motherfucker,” he gasps, voice thinned by pain. “I’ll fucking kill you for that.”

“On with it, then,” Byakuya snaps, already swinging into his next strike.

Makoto wants to intervene, but there’s no way that can happen. He can do nothing for either of them but watch, watch as Byakuya lands a hit to Mondo’s gut that has a whine whistling from him. As they transition to dodging rather than blocking, both of them made all the more dangerously messy by their flagging energy. As Mondo feigns to the left and uppercuts Byakuya so hard his glasses fly from his face and skitter across the tiles toward the door.

Byakuya blindly flings out a hand, but he’s too far away from the tables. Nothing is close enough to keep him from falling to his knees.

Save for the alphas’ panting, the room is silent.

Mondo laughs, brazen. “So that’s what all the bragging and bullshit amounted to. That’s the ultimate affluent progeny, everybody. Turns out all that means is ultimate spoiled rich kid.”

Byakuya has his head bowed; Makoto can’t see his face. His hands are braced on the floor, the knuckles bloody. His shoulders are hunched, knotted. Makoto has seen defeat before, but this . . .

“You’re not even gonna say anything, are ya?” Mondo leans down, hands on his knees like he’s indulging a child. “You know your place now, don’t ya? You’re not in charge. Nobody’s gonna take orders from you ever again. You’re bottom of the food chain, understand?”

Byakuya says nothing. Doesn’t move. Is he fighting to remain conscious?

“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” Mondo makes to grab for Byakuya’s chin. “I _said_ —”

Byakuya bites his hand.

It’s not a nip. It’s savage, a bite of hatred and alpha-sharp canines. Mondo swears, then screams as blood begins to pour from his hand and the bones grind between Byakuya’s teeth. But he’s not done: Byakuya reaches up, grabs hold of Mondo and yanks him down to the floor. A second of distraction, of off-balance, and he’s done for. Byakuya is an animal. He fists the back of Mondo’s collar in his hand and pounds his head into the floor. Once. Twice. Blood on the floor. Mondo begging, slurred, for mercy.

“That’s enough.”

Finally, Makoto looks away. Kyoko has her arms crossed over her chest, something like annoyance in her eyes. She is only a beta, but that somehow adds weight to her words now. She is an outsider in this battle of alpha and omega. Objectively: that’s enough.

Byakuya must agree, because he lets go of Mondo and pushes to his feet. He straightens his lapels, pushes hair from his face, wipes blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes can’t focus on any of them at this distance, and that only adds to the feral ferocity of them.

“No one here is a leader,” he says, and his voice is odd, at once rough and light. His chest heaves for every breath. “We are opponents. If any of you choose to take orders, you’re more stupid than you look.”

Celeste rolls her eyes. Taka looks especially scandalized.

Byakuya’s gaze darkens as it falls on Makoto. “And Naegi is mine. Any questions?”

There are no questions. Makoto’s heart skips a beat.

Byakuya leaves without another word, only slightly limping, and snatches up his glasses as he goes.

Taka hurries to help the whimpering Mondo up. He will be fine, by Sakura’s prognosis. He probably won’t even scar. “That’s a good thing, at least,” Makoto says, without even thinking.

They all turn to look at him. He swallows.

But Mondo has no anger left. “Yeah,” he says, exhausted. “Good thing.”

_And, truthfully, there was nothing. Makoto never woke to Byakuya touching him, never felt any sneaking hands or feathered kisses or marking teeth. He was pretty sure he woke once in the middle of the night and felt something firm pressed against his ass, but that was all. Byakuya had given him something for nothing, impossibly._

_“Thank you,” he had whispered against the pillow._

“Don’t mention it,” Byakuya says that night. He’s sore, Makoto can tell, but he still lets Makoto snuggle close to him. Perhaps this innate safety he feels isn’t quite as one-sided as Makoto thought. “To anyone. Ever.”

Makoto almost smiles, until he sees the serious look in those blue eyes. “I won’t.” If he wants them to think this is just sex, Makoto supposes that doesn’t matter. It’s about playing the game, as Byakuya always says. “But . . . when you said I was yours, you didn’t say if you meant to, uh, mate, or to . . . kill.”

Byakuya regards him, brow furrowed. Then a smirk tugs his still healing lip and he tips his head back into the pillow, eyes closed.

Makoto stares at him. “Bya—”

“Good night, Naegi.” 


End file.
